


Helping a Sick Old Man

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was talking about friendly, stupid, sympathetic dogs, and this happened. Kup isn't feeling well, and Grimlock wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping a Sick Old Man

Kup lay back on the berth and tried to rest. He had been more miserable than this a few times in his career, but most of those incidents involved dismemberment.

He scratched at his throat and grimaced as he felt the paint flake under his fingers. He’d developed a reaction to some of Earth’s local EM signals. They played piston-licking havoc with his repair nanites, sending them into a frenzy of half completed plating regeneration cycles. He itched all over, even inside his vents. It was damned unpleasant, but not life-threatening, so he just had to wait while their limited medics attended to more urgent cases.

He pulled the cold pak to his chest and tried to think un-itchy thoughts.

There was a _**THOOM THOOM THOOM**_ from the doorway.

“Grimmy, that you?”

“How you Kup know?” Grimlock asked. He moved into the room, his tail blocking the door until it beeped at him to move it.

“I recognize your stomp. Whatcha doin’ here?”

Grimlock laid his head on Kup’s leg, looking up at him with unusual concern. “Me Grimlock hear you Kup no feel good. Me want help.”

“Well that’s—” Kup was interrupted by a coughing fit and had to force air through his vents until it passed. “—real nice of you.” He rubbed the smooth plane of Grimlock’s head absently. It felt good under his hand. “I don’t guess you brought a shot of signal dampener?” That was the best cure for radio reactions. Take a shot of that and sleep it off while your nanites sorted their little selves out.

“Can get. Where is?” He stood up, glad to have a mission.

Kup waved a hand. “We ain’t got any on base. One of the medics’ll have to program some.” He coughed again. “Which’ll just have to wait until they get everyone reassembled from that last dustup.”

“Me Grimlock make them hurry!”

“Nah, nah.” Kup put a hand on Grimlock’s little arm to stay him. He gave him a little smile. “Can’t rush things like that, or we’ll end up with Bluestreak’s wings on Prime’s muffler.”

Grimlock laughed at the image, a rusty, full-throated sound. “So what we do?”

“We’ll just have to wait,” Kup said, laying himself back down and scratching at his arm.

Grimlock’s shoulders slumped. “Me Grimlock no like waiting.”

“Yeah, I’m not crazy about it either.”

Quietly, for him, he said, “Me Grimlock sorry. Me thought me could help you Kup.”

Kup looked over at him. He was clenching his hands anxiously. The poor kid. His early life had really done a number on him. As bold as he seemed, he was sensitive about his processing capacity, especially when it limited his usefulness. For a long time, his usefulness in a fight had been the only reason the Autobots kept him and his team online, and he knew it.

“Aw, sure you can help. Come over here.” He held out an arm and drew Grimlock toward him, settling his head on his chest and resting his arm around his thick neck. “Havin’ a friend around makes the time go faster. And ain’t no time I’d rather go faster than now.”

Grimlock pressed his muzzle to Kup’s plating, nuzzling him with an affection he usually reserved for the other Dinobots. “Me Grimlock friend?”

Kup smiled and hugged him closer. “Course you are. Best friend a bot could ask for.” He ruffled the top of Grimlock’s head and earned a happy rumble from his powerful engine. It was comforting, like the sound of a big spaceship you could curl up in to rest. “My vocalizer’s sore, so why don’t you tell me a story this time?”

He settled into the padding of the berth as Grimlock started a story about scorching a bunch of Decepticons but good. He was a natural storyteller, more than making up his lack of vocabulary with emphatic gestures. Kup let himself get lost in the performance, the itchiness dimming just a little.


End file.
